


Purple just wasn't for you

by shanimalew



Series: Fictober 2020 [8]
Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: Gen, Heavy Angst, Other, Torture, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-09
Updated: 2020-10-09
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:06:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26914852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shanimalew/pseuds/shanimalew
Summary: Illya is captured by KGB, which is determined to get him to spill UNCLE's secrets and to show him who he really belongs to.[Fictober 2020, Day 9]
Relationships: Illya Kuryakin/Napoleon Solo/Gaby Teller (implied)
Series: Fictober 2020 [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1947211
Comments: 6
Kudos: 25





	Purple just wasn't for you

**_Prompt 9 Purple_ **

_You were red, and you liked me because I was blue_

_But you touched me, and suddenly I was a lilac sky_

_Then you decided purple just wasn't for you_

_[Colors by Halsey]_

Illya spits on the ground, blood and saliva dripping on his chin. His left eye has finally closed, while the vision from his right one is blurred, from the blood or the tears he doesn’t know anymore.

He never knew it was possible to hurt and feel numb at the same time.

He raises his head, looking at the person in front of him, or at least he thinks there’s someone in front of him. He doesn’t know when they are beating him or taking a pause, his body hurting constantly. It had been a while since he was last tortured, working for U.N.C.L.E. has made him soft. It's the excuse he uses to give himself permission to shred a few tears at night when his jailers are away. It’s the same excuse they have for torturing him.

_Those Westerns deviated you, weakened you_

It’s easier to give them the fault than to face the reality of the situation.

“You will talk, Kuryakin. We will make you remember where your loyalty must lie” the man says, before punching him.

Two punches at his sides, right on his kidneys, making him gasp for air, and one on his face. Illya spits again, this time feeling something fall.

Well, there goes the third tooth lost.

They stopped using his rank a long time ago, now calling him just ‘Kuryakin’. As if he has lost every right he fought so hard to obtain, as if all his sacrifices to atone for his father’s sins have vanished, leaving just another traitor.

He supposes he should have guessed it, like father like son, as they have said multiple times.

He has forgotten what crimes he’s paying for. He thinks they told him, between tearing off his nails and suffocating him, but he was too busy to listen. 

The man asks him again to talk, to spill everything, that only by talking he will redeem himself. He knows it’s not true, he knows that talking will get him in as much trouble as not talking. Talking means you’re weak and you are a spy, two things KGB does not tolerate.

He wants to laugh, but his ribs hurt too much, so what comes out is a strangled cough, surely wet with blood.

He wants to laugh at his situation, but mostly because he has forgotten what they want from him, what he should ‘spill’. Maybe because of the too many punches to the head, or because he is getting old. He thinks asking now would be quite comical, and will earn him another broken arm, so he avoids asking.

He hears the door open, but he can’t see a thing so he waits to see if he recognises the voice.

“What a pity” the voice says, “And to think you were the best agent we had”

Oleg.

Illya smiles, looking slightly to the right, where he thinks Oleg’s voice came from. He hopes he doesn’t look as pathetic as he feels, but that’s just vanity. Another thing Westerns taught him.

“You let them corrupt you, making you think your duties with your organisation, with your country, were secondary. You thought you could get away with acting like them and look at where it brought you. You were the symbol of your country, now you’re just like your father, maybe worse. Because your father betrayed his country for his own interest, you betrayed it for the enemy”

Illya wanted him to shut up, preferring the beating to his stupid lecture. Also, his ears ring too much when people talked.

“Gulag is not enough for you, you need to be reminded who you really belong to” Oleg continues, and Illya realises that this is it.

He’s never getting out of this room, not even to be sent in Siberia. His body relaxes with the realisation, smiling wider, showing off his bloody and missing teeth.

He knows that is enough to earn him another couple of punches, which promptly arrive. Oleg is so easily manipulable, he doesn’t need to talk to trigger him.

“You insolent child. You are going to pay for your behaviour” Oleg says, now much closer. He feels a hand slapping him. He knows it’s Oleg’s because of the ring on his ring finger.

 _Am I not paying already?_ he wants to ask, but he thinks his dopey smile is enough of an answer.

“You are going to sell U.N.C.L.E’s secrets, one way or another. It’s the only way for you to get out of this situation”

 _There’s always another road_ , he thinks, finding solace in it.

He coughs again, as holding back the need to laugh becomes more and more difficult. Then spits.

“Are you laughing? At me or at yourself?” Oleg says.

Illya hears the amusement in his tone. He’s happy he’s not the only one having fun.

“Both” he spits out, voice hoarse from the torture and the extended time passed in silence. “You want to know something funny? This is all on you” he continues, fighting through the pain.

“How so?” Oleg humours him.

Illya straightens his back, coughs again, then looks at what he thinks are Oleg’s eyes.

“You sent me to work for them, for an Englishman. And when I adapted to their style you suddenly decided it was wrong. Punishing me for doing my job”

“If you think fraternizing with the enemy is doing your job you are madder than I thought. Remember, what you are is an abomination, you are lucky I let you work for me, others would have suppressed you like a dog with rabies”

“You liked how this dog killed so-called traitors for you” 

That earns him a punch straight to the jaw.

With his right eye, he sees Oleg gesture the jailer to open the door for him.

_So that’s how it ends_

“You decided to trust the enemy, betray your country and for what? Where are your Westerns friends?”

_Probably drinking corrected tea while trying to find him. But they are not going to, or at least not in time._

Illya just wishes he had more time with Gaby and Napoleon, but for someone like him the time he got was more than he could have wished for. 

“Good, stay silent. That’s how a good Russian agent should act” Oleg says, opening the door.

“Goodbye, Oleg” he says in English, trying to imitate Waverly’s accents as much as possible. Then, he smiles. If he could, he would also wave at him, but he supposes this is enough.

Oleg angrily murmurs something in the jailer’s ear, then slams the door close.

Illya’s smile grows for a second before the jailer reminds him who’s really in charge.

But he doesn’t care anymore. About Oleg and his reputation, about his father or his mother, about being a good spy and a good Russian. He doesn’t care.

Peace washes over him, as the man throws him a very good punch to his liver.

Then everything goes black.

**Author's Note:**

> Writing full-on angst is a bit out of my comfort zone but I really enjoyed working on this story. Hope you liked it too, leave kudos and comments if you did! <3


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